


Spaces Between Our Goodbyes

by tellmeaboutthedream



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: An almost panic attack, CACW spoilers, M/M, implied praise kink, mid-credit scene spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-12
Updated: 2016-05-12
Packaged: 2018-06-08 00:02:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6830767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tellmeaboutthedream/pseuds/tellmeaboutthedream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He sees Steve by the window, bathed in moonlight, jaw clenched, lips curved into a frown, tension in the lines of his back. It reminds Bucky for a moment of pencil strokes across rough paper, blue gaze intent, focused, parted lips murmuring almost breathless praises that sends sparks shooting down Bucky’s spine, speaking of beauty that Bucky can only see in Steve. </p><p>It’s his voice that breaks the silence again. </p><p>“Do you still draw?”</p><p>---</p><p>a.k.a the drawing fic I have never done combined with that mid-credit scene I am so angry with</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spaces Between Our Goodbyes

**Author's Note:**

> As said in the tags, this does include spoilers for Captain America: Civil War.

For three minutes there has only been silence.

His hand clenches into a fist, fingers tangling in the stark white sheets, the edge of the mattress digging into calloused flesh, bloodied palm.

His raw whisper still hanging between them, words still ringing in his ears.

_I need to go back under._

“You know it’s for the best,” he says, if only to dash away the lingering echoes.

Steve draws an unsteady breath behind him.

“I’m not letting them get to you. Not again.”

Bucky huffs out a laugh, brittle and soft.

“I can’t keep fighting, Steve. Not- not anymore.”

Something in him rails at this, screams that _it’s a lie, it’s a lie, he’d follow Steve anywhere, he just needs to ask-_

“I don’t want to fight anymore,” stronger, almost pleading.

_Please don’t ask._

“You don’t have to.”

The note of conviction in Steve’s voice dropping, resignation rising in its stead.

Bucky’s lips quirk into a not-quite smile.

He stands, he turns.

He sees Steve by the window, bathed in moonlight, jaw clenched, lips curved into a frown, tension in the lines of his back. It reminds Bucky for a moment of pencil strokes across rough paper, blue gaze intent, focused, parted lips murmuring almost breathless praises that sends sparks shooting down Bucky’s spine, speaking of beauty that Bucky can only see in Steve.

It’s his voice that breaks the silence again.

“Do you still draw?”

Steve starts, turns in a movement that is abruptly aborted, and Bucky feels laughter bubbling in his chest as Steve’s gaze drifts sheepishly to the ground.

“Haven’t really had time.”

He lets the rusty chuckle loose and delights in the smile that tugs at Steve’s lips in response.

“Got plenty of time now, don’t we?”

Steve straightens, moonlight dyeing his eyes silver as he raises an eyebrow.

“I suppose we do. Why? Got a request?”

He surprises himself by having to take a steadying breath before saying, slowly, carefully, “You could draw me. Like before.”

In the same breath, he remembers -

_“-ere do you want me?”_

_“There.”_

_A flippant wave to the window, and Steve settles onto the sofa opposite, pencil and paper held carefully above his lap._

_“Gotta say, Rogers,” Bucky drawls as he shuffles obediently to the sun-warmed glass, “Kinda surprised you don’t have this pretty face memorised. You know, with all the starin’ you do.”_

_Steve sighs and lifts his gaze, blue eyes challenging and amused._

_“You gonna be quiet and stay still for me, or am I gonna have to make you?”_

_Bucky swallows, heat a slow burn in his cheeks, and turns away, light bright and sharp in his eyes._

_“I can do it.”_

_“Good.”_

He blinks and the image shatters, pieces falling away, fitting itself into the blank spaces of his mind.

“Well,” Steve is saying, “Maybe not exactly like before.”

There’s a small, hesitant grin on Steve’s lips, and Bucky thinks that that’s a memory he definitely needs to come back.

His hand stretches out and waits for Steve’s to close around it with a warmth he still hasn’t gotten used to, and Bucky draws Steve closer, knocking at Steve’s shoulder gently with his forehead.

“Depends on how well you do,” Bucky mumbles, and grins at Steve’s surprised laugh.

An arm brushes against his waist, and he nods a quiet acceptance, letting out a breath as a large hand settles at the small of his back, pulling him in closer, closer.

“I don’t have any paper,” low, regretful.

Maybe it’s Steve’s warmth, his scent - of heat, of comfort - his heartbeat.

Maybe it’s the thrill of each brush of Steve’s breath against his ear.

Whatever it is, he finds himself saying, “In my bag. Notebooks. Blank pages.”

_A bag tucked between the shield, the wings. Unopened. He lets out a breath._

Steve hums a questioning note, “They’re empty?”

Bucky shakes his head, pressing in closer, “Not empty. Just not complete.”

“What did you- No. Sorry, no, you don’t need to answer that.”

He doesn’t.

Instead, he pulls away and bumps his shoulder into Steve’s, chastising against Steve’s pained grimace.

“Yeah, yeah, I got it. I don’t have to tell you anything I don’t want to; stop worrying.”

He turns away before Steve can apologize again and crosses the room, gait unsteady. He feels Steve’s gaze on his back as he tugs at the cupboard, reaching for the bag he’d wedged behind it.

The weight is a comfort in his hand as he kicks the cupboard back into place with a grunt, ignoring Steve’s half-voiced offer of help. Everything he was, everything he is, everything he could be, trapped in small, cramped words, almost cowering, afraid of the white borders surrounding them. Of the emptiness.

_An emptiness he could fill, he thought, gloved hand running down blank pages._

_A clean slate, he’d hoped at the time._

_Until- the goddamned words._

He tosses the bag onto the bed, light thump wrenching his thoughts to the present, and unzips it, sharp and sudden, sound almost frightening in the silence.

Then, slowly, almost reverently, he reaches in. Pulls out _his book._

It’s as well-kept as he could manage; the smallest tatters in only the corners of the page, the lightest folds, the fading smudges.

He turns it over, carefully keeping his gaze away from Steve, and opens it to a blank page.

“There,” he murmurs, setting it gently down on the bed, “Use this.”

It takes only a moment for Steve’s footsteps to sound softly in the room, his tread gentle, hesitant.

An arm reaches out, lifts the book gingerly, and Bucky turns, watching blue eyes run down the page, before they turn to look at him.

A single moment, silent and charged, before-

“On the bed,” Steve blurts out, and Bucky thinks distantly that Steve’s open-mouthed shock could rival his. Steve closes his eyes with an exasperated sigh after a beat, and then barrels on, “I mean- I want to draw you on the bed. In the moonlight. If you’re okay with that.”

“Oh,” Bucky begins, stunned, “Uh- we’re gonna have to move the-”

“I’ll handle it,” Steve rushes to say, eyes wide and anxious, “Is it- you’re?”

“Yeah. Yeah, really okay with it.”

Steve turns, jerky and unsure, a wild look in a gaze that burns as it shifts to the bed. Bucky laughs.

“Woah, pal, don’t worry, it’s not going to fight you. Just gotta push it a little to the left, alright?”

A low chuckle, and then-

“Sorry- yeah, I know. It’s just been-”

“A long time?”

A silent nod.

“Hey,” Bucky murmurs, reaching out, tugging at Steve’s shoulder, “C’mere.”

Steve goes, eyes darting around the room, embarrassed, landing on everything but Bucky.

“Buddy, pal, hey. It’s going to be good. Trust me,” Bucky begins, hand warming against the curve of Steve’s neck, thumb brushing against the line of Steve’s jaw, “But, just in case. For good luck-”

He leans forward, eyes half-lidded, almost pleading, and waits.

A half, choked out, “Buck-” and then-

Arms wrapping around his waist, hold tight - safe, lips pressing against his, and it’s-

\- heat, comfort, familiar, too much, _too much-_

He pulls away, swallowing gasps, and steps out of Steve’s loosening grasp.

“I’m sorry-”

“No, don’t. It was my- I thought I could- just a little much for now, maybe,” and then, before silence can settle between them once more-

_Too much quiet, too many moments where he should’ve said something, could’ve said something -_

“Now move the bed, punk.”

He gets a weak glare in return, and he grins.

“Would you like to get on it first, your highness?”

“Nah, wouldn’t want to damage your old man back.”

Steve rolls his eyes, tension draining, and grumbles a single, “Jerk.”

* * *

Days- weeks later, surrounded by almost blinding white, he stretches up, urgent, desperate, and his lips brush against Steve’s, salty wet.

“For good luck,” he whispers, and steps into the chamber - a prison, but one he chooses.

He allows himself a last long look at Steve, shuddering breaths rattling in his chest. He swallows, forces them to steady, taking comfort in the worried blue gaze.

“The notebooks,” he says suddenly, voice wavering, “Read them.”

_Read them, and remember me. And when everything’s okay, when I’m okay - let’s start over._

He looks away, a hiss sharp and sudden in his ears and then -

Cold-

Rising panic-

_No-!_

_Doctors, scientists clad in white, clinical, morbid curiosity impassive gazes, metal arm against glass, hand curling - I just want-_

Steve. Solid and bright at the edges of his vision - patient, kind. Waiting.

He calms, his fingers tightening around paper, tracing the lines he’s memorized, lines he watched Steve create.

He thinks of moonlight, of sunlight, and intense, focused blue, and - he sleeps.

**Author's Note:**

> Well! That was that! Not a very good start, but I did need to get some feelings out, so this is what I'm doing! 
> 
> Title from the song Bring Me the Night - Sam Tsui and Kina Grannis
> 
> I hope you have enjoyed this story; thank you for reading and please do leave a review if you have the time/inclination!


End file.
